


The Programmer

by Angie_Baby



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Coding, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Ultramarathons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-24 23:00:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16649491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angie_Baby/pseuds/Angie_Baby
Summary: Voldemort is a quirky fellow. He kidnaps Hermione after taking Harry years before with the intent of making a horcrux live with the help of computer programming.Any encouragement for me to start working on this again would be appreciated. I think it has potential, I'm just struggling to focus lately.





	1. Chapter 1

Hermione fixes her makeup in the mirror, doing what is necessary because nature hadn’t given her a beautiful face. Pretty, but not beautiful. Not the face of a courtesan naturally.  
She tilts her made-up face back and forth, admiring her work. She’s gotten quite good at makeup over the past three months. She doesn’t need the money, she has Prometheus, her artificially intelligent construct, making money for her. 

Why Hermione does sex work is simply due to boredom and desire to dabble in something new. She likes the excitement of meeting strangers for sex and seeing how much someone will pay for a night with her.

“Mione, your client is here,” says Prometheus’s voice from a speaker on the desk just outside the bathroom.

Hermione finishes the last brush stroke, then goes to answer the door. She lives in an upscale apartment in the Australian Gold Coast. A muggle apartment. 

The man outside the door is eccentric in appearance. He’s wearing a severe black suit. His hair is shoulder length and white blond. His eyes are like amethysts. All in all, it’s one of Hermione’s fantasies. 

Hermione smiles. “You got dressed up for me, Tom.”

“I did. May I come in?”

She steps back and Tom steps into her and inhales.

Hermione thinks fast trying to remember if she’d remembered perfume, though she knows she did.

Tom looks at her face. “Go wash your face.”

She hesitates, unwilling to leave him to roam in her apartment.

“I’ll come with you.”

Hermione leads the way to the bathroom. She washes her face, a little unnerved by his intense stare. To break the ice: “You look like a Game of Thrones character.”

Tom smiles. “Wash that scent off of you.”

“Do you want to help?” murmurs Hermione and she unhooks her skimpy bra, letting it fall to the floor.

He weighs her breasts with his eyes, a glimmer of lust lighting them on purple fire. “Quick wash, get the scent off.”

Hermione showers and has to wash her hair. 

When she comes out, Tom is naked. He has the toned body of a runner, a look they both share. She lacks the massive cock he’s pumping in his hand.

Hermione’s cunt throbs. She kneels before him without drying her hair.

Tom slaps her cheek with his cock.

She tries to take it in her mouth, but he steps back. “Not here?” she asks.

“What are your fantasies, Hermione?”

Hermione gives him her best smile. “You.” 

Tom tilts his head. “Do you want to tie me up, beat me, have me tie you up, beat you?”

“I can tie you up,” says Hermione, utter delight tingling in her.

“Would that make you happy?”

Hermione nods. “Very happy.”

Tom bows. “What should I call you?”

“Sir,” says Hermione and she leads him to the bedroom.

Prometheus, confined to the computer, stays quiet as Hermione ties Tom’s wrists to the headboard.

“Nice computer.”

Hermione’s cunt is throbbing a steady beat. “Nice computer what?”

Tom grins. “Nice computer, Sir.”

“You didn’t send me a list of your fantasies,” says Hermione, fingering Tom’s length.

“I like biting.”

Hermione doesn’t think twice, she sinks her teeth into Tom’s bicep.

He cries out and arches his hips.

“Masochist?” asks Hermione, nibbling the area she bit.

Tom nods. “Harder and play with my cock as you do it.”

Hermione obliges and Tom writhes under her with a curse.

“Break the skin.”

She blinks. “Like with a bite? Are you sure?”

“Do it.”

“You’re awfully bossy for a man at a Sir’s mercy.”

“I don’t do submission very well, I’m afraid. Now, Sir.”

Hermione viciously bites into the meat between Tom’s neck and shoulder. He jerks and moans.

“I’m going to suck your cock now,” says Hermione.

“Sit on my face.”

“I want to suck your cock.”

Tom gives her a look, so Hermione chuckles and sits on his face. He flicks his tongue over her clit, then sucks it into his mouth and nurses.

Hermione moans and grinds on him, certain he can take it.

He bites her.

“Ah!” Pressure builds in Hermione’s belly and she grinds harder. 

Tom rewards her with more biting and it doesn’t take long until an orgasm ripples through Hermione’s body. She rolls off of him in a weak muddle. 

“Lick me clean.”

She licks his glistening face, then starts kissing him with genuine enjoyment as she plays with his cock.

Tom groans into her mouth and cants his hips up.

“I could ride you,” says Hermione, pinching his balls.

He cries out. “Free me.”

Hermione unties him and he flips them, then pounds into her in a enthralling onslaught.

It’s easily the best sex Hermione’s had working as an escort and she’s sad when the hour ends. She studies him and smiles. “We could go again, no cost.”

Tom smiles back. “This face is that of your fantasy, correct?”

A flash of warning, a warning she can’t say where it comes from flashes and Hermione tries to dart off the bed to her wand, but Tom crushes her to his body as his features morph into Lord Voldemort’s.

She swears and tries to punch him.

“Ah ah ah,” says Voldemort. He captures her wrists above her head. “That was your fantasy. The Targaryen prince. You were marvelously responsive to me. I think I’ll keep the face. Here’s how it’s going to be, darling. You’re coming with me to build an artificial intelligence using the horcrux in Harry. I am going to house the intelligence in a female body because I plan to fuck it. Understood?”

Hermione stares into his monstrous red eyes. “Switch your face back.”

Voldemort’s features morph back into the Targaryen prince.

“You can kindly fuck off and break your dick.”

He laughs. “I’d rather stick it in you again.”

Hermione struggles.

Voldemort groans and sinks into her.

She freezes and turns her face away.

“Ah well.” Voldemort pulls out. “I don’t like fucking unresponsive women. Might as well fuck a corpse. Let’s get going. You can pack your computer up and take it with us. I assume you can copy a base level of code from Prometheus to make Riddle.”

“Will you let me see Harry?” asks Hermione, her heart pounding with fear.

“Yes. Pack up the computer.”

Hermione gets up and starts packing the computer with shaking hands, frequently glancing over at Voldemort. Prometheus doesn’t speak, likely busy analyzing the situation.

He smiles. 

“Stop looking at me.”

Voldemort’s smile widens. “I’m afraid I can’t look away. You are a bewitching woman. I tried very hard to capture you in the time you were still trying to rescue Harry. Tell me, why’d you stop?”

“There was no point. You killed everyone that was helping me. It became a suicide mission.”

“But Harry was your love.”

“There was also the reports that you were torturing him because people were trying to rescue him.”

Voldemort nods. “I would never torture Harry, not when he’s so compliant. Or he is now. Then he was a little wild, but I still didn’t torture him. I enjoy Harry.”

Hermione slips the little box knife on the desk into her hand and walks back to Voldemort.  
He raises an eyebrow. “Done?”

She straddles his lap, loathing the feel of him. “Let me go and I’ll give you the best sex of your life.” 

Voldemort plays with her full breast. “No.”

Hermione tries to stab him in the neck, but Voldemort catches her wrist and crashes their lips together. His grip on her breast becomes painful. She relaxes her body and doesn’t respond.

Voldemort shoves her from his lap. “Finish the computer.”

Hermione falls hard on the floor and her lower lip trembles.

“Are you gonna cry, Hermione Granger?”

She rises and attacks him, trying to get the box knife.

Voldemort gropes her and whines as she rubs accidentally against his cock. Hermione snarls and grabs the box knife, trying with both hands to pry it from his fingers. He flips them and ruts against her, sending traitorous heat through Hermione’s body. She sinks her teeth into his wrist as hard as she can. 

“Ah, fuck,” groans Voldemort. “More!”

Hermione bites his fingers and keeps biting as Voldemort penetrates her. She starts crying, but she keeps fighting. Finally, she spits in his face and snarls.

Voldemort pumps away inside her.

Something in Hermione breaks and she goes limp.

He curses and pulls out, quickly satisfying himself with a hand. He smears his cum on her breasts. “Pack the computer.”

Hermione summons up courage and slaps him.

Voldemort slaps her back, harder.

Tears well up in her eyes and she turns her face away.

He chuckles. “Isn’t this your fantasy? For a Targaryen to abuse you? You were quite vivid in your perversion. Must have taken courage to post it online.”

Hermione shakes herself. She runs an analysis and decides she needs to play it cool. She takes a breath in. “Prometheus is simple. She’s not conscious, she’s a collection of code. I’m not a good enough programmer to make a conscious program.”

“That’s what the horcrux is for, dear. It will animate the code.” Voldemort rises. “Finish the computer.”

“I can transfer the base code to your computer. I don’t have to come with.”

Voldemort’s face turns patient. “I need you to help me match up the engineering of the brain and body to the base code. It’s a complex task and will take us working in unison for some time. I’m also unwilling to let that body leave my control.”

Hermione’s lip curls back. “Fuck you.”

“Fuck you back,” says Voldemort. “Now pack the fucking computer.”

“You fucking pack it!”

Voldemort smiles and waves his wand. Foam appears all around the computer. “There. Put on a sports bra and spandex.”

Hermione stares. “What?”

“Sports bra and spandex. No padding. Now.”

“Um…”

Voldemort snaps his fingers. “What part of ‘now’ are you not comprehending?”

Hermione hurries to dress in a neon pink sports bra with short black spandex.

“Longer spandex. You’ll get chafing.”

“What are you going to have me to?” asks Hermione in amazement.

“We’re going for a run. Chop chop.”

Hermione puts on longer spandex and stands still for his inspection with a feeling of bizarre disbelief.

Voldemort walks around her. “Go put that riot of hair in a ponytail.”

“At once,” Hermione murmurs and tries to leave the room.

He tisks. “Mirror and hairbrush right over there, sweetie.”

Hermione glares at him and sweeps her hair up into a ponytail.

“Do it over. Make it pretty.”

Hermione fixes her hair and keeps glaring at Voldemort in the mirror.

“Let’s go.” Voldemort holds out his hand, his wand in his other.

She thinks fast. “Let’s go for a run here. Do you run often in Australia?”

“Yes.”

Hermione blinks. 

Voldemort crooks his finger at her. “If I have to come get you, you’re going to get a spanking.”

“Um…” Hermione edges towards the door.

He advances.

She sprints through the house only for Voldemort to catch her at the front door. He gives her an aggressive kiss, then drags her to the living room where he beats her ass. Hermione can feel his erection and it’s making her feel horrifying arousal.

Voldemort starts caressing her ass. “I want to pound into this. How often do you let men play with your ass?”

“None of your fucking business!” Hermione knows it’s a mistake, but she starts wildly struggling.

“Fuck,” Voldemort gasps and he shoves her down onto the floor.

Hermione twists around and grabs Voldemort’s balls.

The lust on his face is all-encompassing.

“I will crush these in my hands,” says Hermione and she squeezes.

“Yes,” he groans. 

Hermione hesitates. “You’re bluffing.”

Voldemort’s eyes are heavy-lidded. “Do it.”

She crushes them and Voldemort falls on her, wildly kissing. He thrusts a hand down her spandex and starts fingering her, sending bolts of arousal through Hermione’s body. She wants none of it and she goes limp.

Voldemort sits back and satisfies himself. “Hmm. Shall we try this again?”

“Fuck you to fucking hell you fucking monster!”

“Come on.” Voldemort apparates Hermione and himself back to the computer, then to one side of a valley in the mountains. On the other side she can see a vast black castle. A dense forest of evergreens lays before them.

Hermione notices that Voldemort now has running clothes on. She rubs her eyes. “I’ll give you another blowjob, just let me go home.”

“This is home now, darling.” Voldemort flicks his wand at the computer and it hovers into the air. “Come now, time to run.” He takes off jogging.

Hermione runs the opposite direction.

Voldemort catches up with her as she surveys a sheer drop. He says “The place I apparated us to is the only point of that mode of travel in the entire valley and the surrounding mountains. We have to travel by foot to the castle. I have thestrals for my lazier subjects, but we will run.”

And so Hermione runs after Voldemort at breakneck speed. She’s in danger of collapsing by the time they come to the castle.

“Well done, dear,” says Voldemort and he cups her face in his hands.

Hermione growls. 

Voldemort starts licking the sweat from her face.

“Stop it!” She struggles, which ends in them spilling on the ground. She knows where this is going, so she goes limp.

Voldemort slowly licks the sweat off her face. “That is lovely, darling. Thank you.” He rises and slings her over his shoulder.

“Put me down!” Hermione tries to throw herself off of his shoulder.

He spanks her ass hard. “We’re attracting a crowd, dear, do try to behave.”

“Master has good taste,” says a Death Eater.

Voldemort chuckles. “Yes, I suppose I do.” He strides off, walking with her all the way to his private rooms, which are up at the very top of the castle, some seven stories up.

Hermione is still fighting by the time he slings her down on a couch. “I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!”

“Master?” asks a familiar voice, Harry coming into view. “New body.”

“Hello, dear. I brought you Hermione.”

Hermione scans Harry with her eyes. He looks fine. Good, with toned arms and a tan.  
Harry dashes over and skids to a halt by the chair. “Are you okay?”

“She hurt me,” says Voldemort, showing Harry the bite marks on his wrist and fingers.

Hermione sits up. “I-”

“Out, Harry. She needs to be trained. You will not speak to her or attempt to communicate. Do you understand?”

A spark of defiance lights Harry’s eye, but he only nods. “Yes, Master.”

“I’m not calling you Master,” says Hermione flatly.

Voldemort raises an eyebrow. “What do you want to call me?”

“Bitch.”

Harry coughs to cover a laugh.

“You can’t call me bitch, darling. Master will do. Say it with me. Master.”

“Cocksucker.”

Voldemort sighs. “Master.”

“Flaming cunt.”

“Master.”

“Douchebag.”

Voldemort hums. “Agree to call me Master and I’ll let you bathe unassisted.”

Hermione narrows her eyes. “King Bitch.”

Harry groans.

Voldemort picks her up again and carries her fighting form to the bathroom. He holds her by the hair while he fills the bath, then he expertly peels her bra and shorts off of her. The bathwater sloshes as he gets in with her. His hands are wandering and Hermione knows he’s getting off on this, but she keeps struggling because she can’t bear to not.

“Now now, darling. It’s bath time, not time to seduce your Master into sex.”

Hermione succeeds in half throwing herself out of the bath, but Voldemort hauls her back in. He grabs a sponge and starts scrubbing.

She howls and screams.

Harry comes in.

Voldemort stills. “What did I say, Harry?”

Hermione keeps fighting and Voldemort effortlessly pins her body down.

“Mione, stop fighting. Be as submissive as possible and he won’t rape you or have much interest in you.”

“That is quite enough, Harry. Leave.”

Harry stays put.

Voldemort rises and forces Hermione to bend over. “Leave, Harry, unless you’d like to watch.”

“You flaming bastard! Stop!”

Hermione screams and cries as Voldemort pushes into her.

Harry holds up a knife. “Get the fuck out of her.”

Voldemort starts lazily thrusting. “She’s my cunt, Harry. I don’t want to share so soon.”

Hermione stops fighting and lets her knees buckle so Voldemort has to hold her up.  
“Darling,” he croons. “Darling. Liven up.”

Harry attacks Voldemort with the knife. They fall to the ground wrestling. Harry snarls.  
Hermione rises from the bathtub, shaking. She tries to flee through the door, but it swings shut and locks, so she joins in and tries to shove her thumbs through Voldemort’s eye sockets.  
Voldemort has the knife and he pins her, holding the blade to her neck.

“BASTARD!” Harry launches himself at Voldemort, who waves a hand. Harry flies backwards.  
Hermione swallows, never being more terrified.

“Darling, call me Master. Call me Master and I’ll show you your room.”

“My room?” asks Hermione, her voice trembling.

Voldemort nods. “It’s below my room. It has a nice view of the mountains.”

“And you will leave me alone?”

“No, but I’ll put on clothes and I won’t assault you unless you initiate another wrestling match. Really, it’s up to you.”

“Thank you… Master.”

Voldemort smiles. “There we go.”

Hermione is shepherded to tower room where Voldemort sets up the computer. He explains that the computer will work off castle’s ambient magic. She barely hears him, her mind is falling into a numb state.

Voldemort slams his hand on the desk, making her start. “Are you listening?”

“I’m scared.”

“I’m not going to hurt you, dear. Unless you’re stupid. But you’re not stupid, are you?”

“I can build you the AI and then you’ll let me go, right?”

Voldemort shrugs. “Sure.”

Hermione eyes him. “You’re lying. You’ll kill me.”

“No, dear. I’m not going to kill you.” Voldemort yawns. “Let’s hurry this up. Review the base code you have for Prometheus, review your notes. I’ll give you my notes on the body and computer to house Riddle. Dear God I’m tired. Notes later.” Voldemort kisses her forehead, then heads up the stairs.

Hermione’s frozen for an instant, then she tears through the rooms to the exit, only to find it locked. She screams and screams in horror and desperation.

Harry comes over. He doesn’t speak, but his presence is comforting.

Slowly, Hermione calms down. She’s been kidnapped by Voldemort, but Harry is here.


	2. Chapter 2

Voldemort wakes in a pleasant mood. He heads down the stairs and sees Hermione typing into her computer with lightning speed. She’s wearing her sports bra and spandex. He goes over and watches the code stream by. “Wonderful, dear.”

Hermione looks up at him. “How much do you know about computer coding?”

“Enough to understand what I’m seeing, but not enough to put it together.” Voldemort tousles Hermione’s hair, delighting in her shiver of fear.

“I’m not going to fight you any more and I’ll be boring so you won’t want to have sex with me. We won’t have an issue. I’ll build you Riddle and you can leave me alone to work.”

Voldemort frowns. “That’s dull.”

“I’m sorry, Master. Truly and deeply.”

“Well. How long have you been working?”

“An hour.”

“Work for another hour and then we’ll have dinner.” Voldemort fondles Hermione’s breast through the sports bra.

She stares straight ahead, but her nipple hardens.

Voldemort frees her breast and pinches the nipple sharply.

Hermione’s eyes widen and she bites her lip, then goes back to staring at the screen.

“I suppose I should let you work,” says Voldemort reluctantly.

“Yes, Master.”

Voldemort conjures a chair and is promptly knocked off it as Hermione hurls herself at the wand in his hand. “Ooph.” Blood surges to his cock, but as soon as it becomes evident that she’s not getting the wand from him, her body goes limp.

“No, be interesting,” says Voldemort, nuzzling her cheek. “I’m your fantasy.”

Hermione shoots him a look.

Voldemort sets her back in her chair and sits down. “Go ahead and code.”

“I’m just reviewing Prometheus’s code.” Hermione whizzes through ages of code as Voldemort does his best to keep up. “What kind of computer are you going to house her in?”

“Looks like a brain, it’s more magical then muggle. Do you want to hurt me at all?”

Hermione glances at him. “When you like it as much as you do, it’s not fun.”

“I think in the right context, it’s very fun.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

Voldemort frowns. “Not even a little?”

“Do you like blood play?”

“Very much.”

“We can do that.”

Voldemort quirks his lips. “Maybe when I don’t have to focus entirely on your likelihood to slit my throat. Oh, I should mention that you’re free to roam the castle as long as you tell me and I can close the apparition point without there being a conflict.”

Hermione blinks. “Why would you bother allowing me to do that?”

“I don’t see why I should force you to stay in my rooms. I mostly like running alone, so I expect you to go on runs without me. I’m a fan of staying in shape.”

“Of course you are.”

Voldemort smiles. “Yes. You stopped.”

Hermione starts scrolling through code again. “Let’s discuss how the body will interact with the software.”

Voldemort launches into a talk about how he thinks it will happen and Hermione listens. This time she actually pays attention and Voldemort is entranced by her look of reluctant curiosity. “There,” he says, staring at her plump lips.

Hermione’s eyes narrow and her hand whips across his face.

Voldemort touches his stinging cheek with surprise. “I thought you were going to be boring.”

“I am.” Hermione looks at the code again.

“Hit the other one.”

“You have to be a good boy to earn that.”

Voldemort frowns. “I am a good boy.”

Hermione eyes him. “Uh huh. Look, I think I have an idea of how to get started, but having you hover is not going to work wonders for my output.”

“I’ll go for a run.” Voldemort kisses her forehead, then runs in the forest until he’s exhausted himself. 

 

Voldemort comes back into his rooms on weak legs to find Hermione still typing away. He collapses on her bed.

She turns in her chair to stare at him. “How far did you go?”

“Twenty-eight miles.”

Her eyes pop wide. “Holy shit.”

Voldemort sighs with content. “Did you make progress?”

Hermione nods. “Do you want to take a nap?”

“Come cuddle with me.”

She wants the wand, so of course she comes. Voldemort wraps himself around her and mutters a charm to make the wand unusable unless he himself unlocks it. To maintain the appearance of an open window, he keeps it tight in his hand. He breathes in her scent as he falls asleep.  
It isn’t long before Voldemort is woken by a sharp bite to his hand. He muddles through the bleariness and hugs Hermione to himself, his hard-on pressing into her belly. 

Hermione growls at him ferally.

Voldemort shivers with pleasure and gives her a kiss and then another. He hums. 

“Are you still sleepy?” asks Hermione.

“Yes.”

Hermione’s eyes show brilliant loathing as she kisses him on the mouth and tucks her head under his chin.

Voldemort falls back asleep.

 

He’s woken again by a mouth sinking its teeth into his hand. He rolls on top of Hermione and mouths her neck.

“Who sleeps with their muscles that tense?” she demands.

“Me,” says Voldemort, giving her skin slow kisses.

“Stop.”

He rolls off of her and starts playing with himself, adrift in a pleasant warmth.

“You fucking pervert. Do that in your own bed.”

Voldemort moans.

Hermione goes over to the computer and starts typing.

“Darling, come back to me.”

She ignores him.

Voldemort finishes and takes another nap.

 

Hermione pounces on him and knees him in the gut as she grabs for the wand.

“Ow.” Voldemort gasps and pins her, wheezing into her face. “That wasn’t sexy.”

She snarls.

Voldemort lays down on top of her and falls back asleep.

 

That night at dinner, Voldemort adds something a little extra to Hermione’s pumpkin juice. It’s a slow build, so he hopes she won’t notice immediately. He smiles benevolently at his two roommates.

Harry is glaring at Voldemort and making brutal work of his steak.

Hermione is pushing her food around.

“Darling, what is it?” asks Voldemort.

“I’m not hungry.”

“But eat you will. Or I will feed you. Harry can tell you how much fun that is.”

“He gets horny every single time,” mutters Harry.

Voldemort’s smile widens. “Shall we, dear?”

“I’m vegan. I’ll be sick if I eat this steak.”

“But of course. Knobby.”

A cringing house-elf appears, clad in a blood red uniform. “Yes Master Dark Lord Master Sir?”

“Tofu for Mistress Hermione with accompanying healthy vegan food. Are you on it?”

“Yes Master Dark Lord Master Sir!” Knobby vanishes.

Voldemort nods in satisfaction.

Hermione’s glaring has achieved new heat.

“Yes, dear?”

“Nothing.” Hermione fidgets.

Voldemort notices that her pumpkin juice is half empty. “Is anything wrong, Hermione?”

Her face turns livid. “You fucking poisoned me!”

Harry jumps up. “What the fuck?”

Voldemort tilts his head. “What are you talking about? Perhaps if you describe the sensation I can help you.” Hermione tries to leave, but Voldemort shakes his head. “No, we’ve bothered the house-elf into making you a special meal. I do have to insist you sit.”

Harry stares at Hermione and he groans. “He did that to me, Mione. I’m sorry.”

Hermione grits her teeth, then her face clears. She sits straight and stares blankly into space.  
Voldemort keeps smiling. Sweat breaks out on Hermione’s forehead. Her eyes dilate. Voldemort with his supernatural senses can smell her arousal. That combined with the scent of her sweat is almost more than Voldemort can bear. He palms himself under the table.

Harry fidgets. 

Hermione sits straight and tall.

The smell of her arousal increases.

Voldemort discretely fondles himself. 

Hermione whimpers.

“Eat your steak, Harry-love,” says Voldemort.

Harry flings a bite of his steak at Voldemort, who catches the piece midair and chews on it.  
The house-elf appears and serves Hermione. “Mistress? Are you okay?”

“Perfectly fine,” Hermione gasps. Knobby disappears and Hermione lunges up. “Give me the fucking antidote!”

Voldemort hums. “I’m afraid I know not of what you speak of. Is there something massive and hard with a curve that might help you?”

Hermione flips him off and walks quickly to her room.

Voldemort follows after spelling Harry’s ass to his seat.

She tries to slam the door in his face, but he holds it open, unbearable excitement lighting his blood on fire.

Hermione walks over to the desk and sits down. She pulls up Prometheus’s file and starts coding.

Voldemort frees her breasts and starts fondling them. She moans and pushes her breasts into his hands, then freezes and is motionless again. He tweaks her nipples and nibbles on her neck.

“Stop,” she snaps.

“Make me.”

Hermione slaps his hands down. She’s shaking with pent up lust. “It hurts, make it stop!”

Voldemort pauses. “It hurts?”

“Yes!”

“I may have made the dose too strong.” Voldemort hesitates. “I’ll leave the room.” He steps outside for five minutes, then lets himself back inside to find Hermione naked on the bed, fiercely rubbing.

She stops, her eyes mad, then continues.

Voldemort prowls over and pulls off his robes. He crawls on top of her and she slaps him. 

“That’s it.” Voldemort takes over rubbing her.

Hermione gasps and arches her back.

“Fuck,” murmurs Voldemort. “Look how wet you are. It’s delightfully disgusting. Do you mind if I just…” He slips his cock inside her and curses at how good it feels.

“More!” Hermione wraps her legs around his waist and starts raking his back with her nails. 

“More!”

Voldemort gives her a kiss. “You’re not in your right mind.” He starts moving, slowly to tease her.

Hermione slaps him. “Faster.”

A surge of lust makes Voldemort pick up speed. She keeps up with him effortlessly, so he fucks her even harder.

They move in unison until the look of lust in Hermione’s eyes is replaced by horror.

Voldemort climaxes with a groan and pulls out.

She doesn’t say anything, just looks down at the comforter.

“You’ll take a lust potion every night, I think,” says Voldemort and he pours himself a double shot of bourbon in his own room. 

He’s quite drunk many shots later when he notices Hermione creeping up the staircase with a knife in her hand. A smile tugs at his lips. He holds up his shot glass. “I can see you, dear. Would you like some bourbon?” 

“You raped me!”

Voldemort nods. “And I’d do it again. We have yet to try your ass, maybe next time. I’m not in the mood for fucking at the moment, though that could change quickly if you attack me. I’ll allow you to go back down the stairs. Go on.”

Hermione frowns and starts crying.

“Darling, there’s no need to cry. You’re a big girl, all of twenty-five, aren’t you?” Voldemort knows the world will spin if he stands, so he remains seated.

She comes at him with the knife, still crying.

Voldemort for the first time notices Harry creeping along behind Hermione. Harry embraces her and takes the knife away. “Come on, Mione. It’s time for bed.”

“He raped me,” she sobs.

“Yeah, he does that. He’s the Dark Lord. No sense of morals. Come on.” 

“But he raped me.” Hermione buries her face in her hands.

Harry shoots a glare at Voldemort. “I know.”

Voldemort pours another shot of bourbon and offers it to Hermione. “Come now, darling. Have some whiskey.”

Hermione grabs the knife from Harry and advances on Voldemort.

“Harry-love, you better stop her,” says Voldemort passively.

Harry loops an arm around Hermione. “I’m sorry, Mione. I love him. I can’t let you kill him.”

Hermione smashes her elbow into Harry’s nose and lunges at Voldemort.

“Here we go.” Voldemort sets the bourbon on the side table and catches her as she throws herself at him. He hisses in delight as the knife slices into his neck, his cock rapidly hardening. The pain feels so good that he doesn’t resist when she stabs it into his abdomen. 

“Mione!” Harry drags her off and tosses her on the ground. “Oh fuck, Master. Where’s your wand?”

“Idk,” says Voldemort with a chuckle. “You let her stab me.”

“Look at my nose!” says Harry, indicating the bleeding wreck of his face.

Voldemort touches the blood welling from him. “Harry-love, this isn’t a paper cut. You better find my wand.”

Harry fists his hair. “Fuck! Where did you put it?”

Hermione jumps up with the knife.

Voldemort sips his bourbon.

“Stop drinking! Jesus you have a problem!” Harry shoves Hermione to the floor again. “Where is your wand?”

“Idk, Harry. I said that already.” Voldemort pokes a finger inside his stab wound. “Look at that.”

Harry grabs play rope from the toy chest and ties Hermione up, then he runs around the room looking for Voldemort’s wand, forgetting to stem the wound.

Voldemort drinks more and more bourbon. The world is starting to get hazy.

“GOT IT!” Harry darts over. “Okay, Master, you’re going to have to unward it.”

Voldemort considers the wand. He reaches out a pale finger to it and the wand hums.

Harry casts healing magics and the wound in Voldemort’s gut heals over.

“Well done, love,” says Voldemort and he sways.

Harry stabilizes him. “This alcoholism is getting out of hand. She could have seriously hurt you if I hadn’t been here. You need to at least put a lock on the stairs if you want to get this drunk.”

“Okay, love. Take me to bed.”

“You’re lucky you’re skinny.” Harry picks Voldemort up and carries him to bed. 

“Make love to me, Harry.”

“I have to take care of Hermione first.”

Voldemort’s gaze sharpens.

Harry fidgets. 

“Give me the wand, Harry.”

“I can’t.”

“Now.” Voldemort reaches out a hand.

Harry bites his lip.

“Harry, you’re my good boy. Give me the wand.”

“You’re raping her.”

“I rape you and you’re happy. You just needed to get used to me. She’ll get used to me and we’ll be a family. You’ve always wanted a family, love. Wouldn’t you rather have her and me than just me?”

Harry hands Voldemort the wand.

Laboriously, Voldemort sits up and aims at Hermione. He sends a sleep jinx at her, then starts roaming his hands over Harry, the only man he’d ever found sexually attractive. “Make love to me.”

Harry swallows and undresses slowly, flaunting his body.

Voldemort groans and pulls his own bathrobe open. His cock doesn’t care that he’s drunk. It’s hard and at attention.

“I love you, Master.” Harry kisses Voldemort’s cock, then runs his tongue up and down it.

“Ah,” sighs Voldemort and he shifts. “Inside me.”

Harry slips his fingers inside Voldemort’s already lubricated hole and dips them in and out. He stretches Voldemort, then eases his cock inside the passageway.

Voldemort cries out and wraps his legs around Harry’s trim waist. He rocks his hips in unison to Harry’s thrusts as he grows increasingly disconnected with his body.

“You’re so drunk,” says Harry with a chuckle.

“Faster.”

Harry speeds up, his balls slapping Voldemort’s ass.

“Hurt me.”

Harry slaps Voldemort, who moans, his balls tight. His vision swims. “Harry, you need to come. Quickly.” 

Harry pumps in and out and climaxes with a moan. Voldemort grabs the wand and tries to ward it, but he passes into darkness.


End file.
